Bipolar Journey

Ever so often, close family members (like about four in all) who are aware of my illness ask me what a panic attack is like. Is like? I can only tell about one particular attack. I can’t really put it into educated words. It is my experience I am able to tell them. “Do you want to hear about a mild one or a wild one?” I always ask. “The “wild” ones are few but they are the one the ones I remember most. Of course they want to hear about the wild ones.
I ran to the bathroom slammed the door and began to eject the dinner I had just eaten. Slumping down on the floor, slowly from within, I begin to shake. I lean against the wall and started to cry. Their back. My husband is knocking on the door he thinks it must have been something I ate. “In a minute,” I muffle. I stand and wash up. As I turn, I feel my heat burn in my chest and flame to my face. I walk out the bathroom into kitchen with a lightness in my head. “I am here, I think.” I sit at the table and a rush of voices come.Yes, their back. Former attacks, bad memories, and future fears are behind the voices. I can’t think. In my mind I am unable to finish a sentence. I see my husband walking over bringing me a glass of water. He speaks and his voice is far away. I sip some of the water and close my eyes. Once closed, my eyes bring blurs of lights. My mouth goes dry and I begin to feel as though I am being choked. I run back to the bathroom. Again, the liquid in my stomach flies out. I am so hot I strip myself of my clothes. My head falls onto the seat and I continue to vomit. I am now to weak to get up. Once finished, I fall to the floor. The tile brings me a chill. As I lay there, my body shakes. Finally, my body falls limp and I slowly begin to recover. I find my purse, swallow down my “Panic Attach Medicine.” Slowly, I return to what is called an “old self.”

That my sister, is a panic attack.

My first reality break occurred 12 years ago while on vacation. Thus every vacation forward from that event, has been met with much anxiety. It has gotten easier. I have learned some healthy skills to cope and I try to only travel where I would feel comfortable. Last year was a troublesome one and I was not able to travel at all. Now better, I was looking forward to this year. I had been invited by a friend to Hawaii and it was her treat. My first feeling was exhilaration. On a whim I accepted.

Then came the doubts and the what ifs. My biggest concern was my medication. The flight to Hawaii is quite long. Flying has always been a bit unsettling. Plus, I did not know if I could keep on track with my medicine. My daily takes are my life line. Last year I was sent another psychotic episode, I am currently on more medicines that ever. These medications are bound by time. Taking them as prescribed has kept break-through moods from silent.

Well, I did it. The plane trip was terrific. I took enough books and magazines my carry-on could hold. I brought things that were familiar to me such as: a small pillow, my favorite water, and a blanket. I kept myself organized. The flight back from Hawaii, not as equal to the beginning one, still went without incident. A sense of fatigue hit me when I was back home. I reasoned it came with sticking to my medicines regardless of the change in time zones.

While there, the trip was lovely. In the last 12 years since my diagnosis, I only had a great flight and trip one time. It was this time.

So, I have this coworker that bugs me. She gets away with the least amount of work. Always says she will do things and never follows through, and really looks out for the best things for herself. I sometimes get so frustrated with her I want to knock her block off. She think she is the boss. The boss doesn’t see it. It has to do with her doing “little nice thingees” for the boss that she is able to constantly continue. Okay, so she’s the bosses pet. How does one get to be the boss’s pet? Is there a place where you can sign up or pay money to get it?

I work hard and I dedicate myself to overcoming the million different moods that want to manifest themselves at any given moment.

Everyday I watch her and others. I try not to. I know by watching her and those like, it will just frustrate me even more.  I really don’t want the unnecessary energy depletion looking at someone else causes.  I must choose to look within.

An anonymous person once said, “If you chase two rabbits, both will escape.”  I have enough trouble chasing myself.

Since this recent episode has begun to subside, I am getting out a little more.  I have continued through it all to make it to work with a few exceptions.  Getting out and participating in activities has been nonexistent.  Now the holidays are here and there is a certain amount of expectation to involve ones self in all the activities, parties, events, etc.  I made it to my first party last night.  It was a dinner.  It started at 7:00 and ended promptly at 9:00.  I felt fine being there.  I pasted on my smile and talked.  I realized how being absent from so many events leaves many people within your circle with questions.  I decided to avoid that topic and focus on why we were there: to celebrate.  Who wants to hear at a fun party about someone’s dragging depression?  That is conversation killer.

My reclusive behavior has generally been constant.  I think most people find it fitting with my character.  I have another party tonight.  This is a work party.  It is supposed to start at 6:00 and end at 8:00.  I love the kind of event where you know the time you will be finished.  I guess it has something to do with how long they can rent the room or whatever.  So, two parties two nights in a row.  That has to be a record.  I am enduringly grateful I am able to manage it.  Coming up I have this party where it’s like the last one to leave wins a prize or at least bragging rights.  I have decided with all the events if I feel I am to weary to continue “having fun” I will just leave.  That is really freeing for me.  I can fulfill my obligation and still take care of myself.

The family thing is a different animal.  The expectations around Christmas are high.  There is no time for depression.  Fortunately, I have been surviving.  I got the decorations up and am appreciating the beauty of them.  My children think I am weird because I don’t like to go to stores.  They are beginning to get it.  Plus they like seeing packages come to the door from where I have gotten online and got the gifts.

The season is kind of tough, let’s go easy on ourselves.

Writing is something I have always depended on. This last episode has left me bankrupt of creative writing. Heck, I haven’t even been able to journal. I sit with pen in hand staring at the blank paper. I long for a string of words or a phrase that spurs a story. Over and over in my head the story comes. Even after it is written down, it stays for me to ponder more. I know it is not gone. It is just on vacation or maybe banished for a while. This is the first time I have not been able to write. So I am a little anxious to see it come back. In episodes of the past, my pen has been busy day and night. Now I sit and wait.

Every morning and evening my husband asks me the same question about how I feel.  I want to tell him, “I’m better” and really mean it!  I feel better right now.  I feel okay in this very moment.  I am thankful for now and choose to not dwell on how I might feel later.  My history with this illness proves that eventually I do get better.  It just sometimes takes longer than I have the patience for. 

It is being patient with myself that proves almost impossible.  I want to feel well now.  I needed to be better yesterday.  The melancholy that plagues me is old and I have grown tired in having it.  I know I must be grateful for the moments of relief I do have. 

So many think I can just will myself better.  No one can will themselves better.  If I had the flu I wouldn’t will myself better.  If it was that easy then why are so many of us depressed?  No, it is a complex process and it requires self care.  Caring for oneself always appears selfish, yet it is the one thing we can do to help with the depression.

It is what I am learning to do.  Care for myself.  Gently.  Tenderly. Patiently. Very soon I will look back and this depression will be a distant memory.